Mirror Image
by phoenixnz
Summary: What is Oliver thinking during those moments standing on the 'explosive' pressure plate in Echo? Season 9 spoiler. Oneshot


Oliver stared at the prompter. MURDERER. It seemed to be screaming the accusation. He's right, Oliver thought. I am a murderer. I killed Lex Luthor. God, what kind of monster am I if I did the same thing I once accused him of. When did I become my worst enemy?

He could feel the sweat pouring off him. He barely noticed the blaring of the alarm, or Clark helping to clear the club of his shareholders. He deserved to lose everything, he thought. The trouble was, if he lost everything, so did his shareholders. And he had no right to burden them with that.

Clark stopped at the back of the room and Oliver stared at him. Helpless. This wasn't him. He knew that. He'd been Green fucking Arrow. His own father would have been ashamed of him. Robert Queen would be turning over in his grave right about now. The trouble was, the grave of Robert and Laura Queen was empty. Their bodies had never been found.

He missed them. He'd only been nine years old when they disappeared. Barely enough time, really, to know who they were. But he remembered his mother's perfume. Sometimes he'd be walking down the street and catch a whiff of the same scent. He'd whirl around, thinking that somehow, by some miracle, she'd be there. But there was no one.

Oliver took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. Just who he was apologising to, he didn't really know. He looked down at the pressure plate, took another deep breath, and stepped off.

Nothing happened.

Clark must have done something, Oliver thought. He must have found the trigger and neutralised it. That was all he could think.

But then Clark was beside him.

"How did you know the pressure plate wasn't real?" he asked.

Oliver stared at him in shock. "I didn't," he answered, taking the earpiece out and tossing it away The way Clark looked at him, he knew Clark was shocked that Oliver would contemplate such a move, knowing it would have been suicide. And if there had been anyone else in the room, they would never have survived. But he felt the sacrifice was worth it. He'd waited until the last person got out, knowing that Clark wouldn't have been hurt.

He stood on the balcony, scotch in his hand, just staring at the glass. Clark came out and told him Winslow Schott had been arrested.

"Speak your mind Clark."

"I haven't been paying enough attention to everything," he said, coming forward. "There's been danger all around me that I haven't seen. Warning signs that I haven't noticed. People in need, that I've neglected. I didn't realise how bad things are. I haven't been here for you. I'm sorry."

He was apologising? It was one thing Oliver had always hated about Clark. He always felt like he had to bear the burden of someone else's mistakes. Someone else's guilt. Oliver had made those bad decisions. He'd planted the bomb that killed Lex Luthor. And Clark was feeling guilty because he hadn't noticed how bad things were? For God's sake, Oliver wanted to yell at him. Why should you? You've got your own life to live. I don't have the right to burden you with this. Because of me, Jimmy is dead. Because of me, Doomsday almost destroyed the world. I should have listened to you. Trusted you. Instead I turned on you. And you think this is your fault?

But Oliver didn't say any of those things.

"With all due respect Clark," he said quietly, "I'm not sure I'm worth your concern. You know, when I was reading that speech in there, I decided to, uh ... that speech wasn't just a laundry list of all my sins. It was a fact sheet."

Everything about his life was his parents, he told Clark. He didn't earn it. It was all a lie. His whole life was just a lie. He'd done so many stupid things. Fucked everything up. And he'd tried to redeem himself through Green Arrow. But the problem was, that was just as much an illusion as the rest of his life. He was kidding himself if he thought Green Arrow ever made a difference.

Just what did Clark see in him? What did any of them see in him? Why did they care so much? He was nothing. He wasn't even worth the time, he thought.

So many questions in his head. And his guilty conscience wouldn't let up. Why did Clark let him get away with murder? He should be in prison for what he did to Lex. Yet Clark hadn't turned him in. Why not?

Clark accused him of running away from who he thought he was becoming. Was that true? He barely remembered conversations with his father, but he did remember something Robert had once told him. "You have to face your problems, you can't run away from them."

But the nine year old Oliver's biggest problem was trying to get out of doing his maths homework. Or get away with stealing a candy bar from the local store. Adult problems, of conscience, of consequences, would never have occurred to him then.

Clark's final words, before he left to take care of another problem, seemed reassuring. And the thought of his only real friend not giving up on him did help. Until Clark sped off and Oliver caught a glimpse of a mirror image in the glass door. Lex.

Anger rose up like bile and he threw the glass at the door. Damn you, he thought. Why are you still haunting me. The image was gone the next moment but the guilt remained. And Oliver was left alone with that guilt. He knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

But it wasn't just the image that haunted him. It was what it meant. And it brought him full circle back to his original thought as he stood on that pressure plate looking down at the word on the prompter. He was a murderer. As was Lex. Which made him a monster. Lex equals monster equals Oliver Queen. He'd become Lex. And he knew there was no coming back from that.


End file.
